Lately, I've been eyeball deep in fabric. Gorgeous bedding, both of the adult variety and of the pre-teen girl variety, complete with silks and velvets and ruffles lots and lots of ruffles. And curtains, dozens and dozens of curtains, all being delivered at the same time to a newly completed house.
Literally, you have to do a dance to reach the front door, and jump over a series of fabric hurdles to reach the computer. There was a pile of fabric and gorgeousness at the bottom of the stairs. I've taken over the guest room with piles of completed-yet-to-be-delivered work. And don't even get me started on the actual sewing room. It's not pretty. Well, it's pretty, but not because of anything that's permanent.
Finally I've hit a stride, able to deliver some of the work (but of course forgot my camera) and am plowing through a house full of fabulous window treatments. Feeling good about my work, and the amount I've accomplished and the four square feet of carpet I can finally see in my sewing room, I got to work tonight.
Apparently I've uncovered a little too much of the floor in the sewing room, because the dog decided that there was a dog-sized spot right there in the middle, between the ironing board and the cutting table. And I found myself doing a dance around the dog.
I'll console myself with the fact that she's actually sleeping on carpet, not attempting to sleep on curtains.